


Shieldbreaker

by colonel_bastard



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Loyalty, M/M, Revenge, Spells & Enchantments, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 16:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonel_bastard/pseuds/colonel_bastard
Summary: When Tadashi sets out to find someone who can train him in the art of magic, he ends up as the apprentice of Robert Shieldbreaker, a powerful mage with a dark curse on his heart.OR: the calladashi medieval fantasy AU that you never knew you needed.





	Shieldbreaker

**Author's Note:**

> the truth is i watched _king arthur: legend of the sword_ five times in a row and all i wanted was to write about mages and cloaks and traveling through the forest so i decided to make my own dreams come true
> 
> then it turned into calladashi because i've been having crazy callaghan feels lately and i wanted to spend some time with my favorite wrathful bisexual so happy lgbt wrath month everybody
> 
> anyway in case _king arthur_ didn't tip you off this is a Medieval Fantasy AU so let's have some fun with tunics and swords and horseback riding and foraging in the woods!!

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After a long day of riding, they leave the dirt road and turn into the forest, where they find a secluded place to make camp for the night. They have a routine, now. Tadashi tends to the horses while Robert brings water from a nearby stream. Together they collect enough wood to start a fire and keep it fed. Then, when the blaze is good and steady, Robert rigs a crane to hang his kettle, setting it to brew a tea of wild nettle and dandelion. He hangs the stew pot next, tossing in the mushrooms and herbs they’ve collected, along with a splash of red wine from the jug in his pack. Soon enough the air smells cozy and familiar; an echo of the cottage they left behind, months ago. 

After supper they sit together by the dwindling light of the fire. Tadashi has crafted a miniature figure of twigs, bound together with twine at the shoulders and hips and elbows and knees, fully-articulated limbs with an acorn for a head. Robert watches in expectant silence as Tadashi places his hands over the effigy and closes his eyes. He hesitates. 

“Focus,” Robert says, soft. “Intent.” 

Tadashi takes a deep breath. Then he leans forward, pressing his weight behind his hands, his energy, his willpower. He speaks the incantation in a whisper, his eyes still squeezed shut, the words studied so often that he can see them scrawled behind his eyelids. 

It starts as a tingle in his palms, the skin tightening as though held too close to a flame. It quickly blossoms into a genuine warmth that spreads from his wrists to his fingertips. He can feel the power radiating from his hands. He can feel the light. 

When he opens his eyes, the little figure is standing upright before him. 

“Good,” Robert murmurs. 

Tadashi tries not to smile too much, fearing that it might break his concentration. He has to keep his undivided attention on his subject. Very carefully, he twitches his fingers. The movement tugs on the twigs with invisible strings, pulling them into motion like a marionette. The figure takes a step forward. Then another. 

“Very good,” Robert says, his voice warm with approval.

“Practice makes perfect,” Tadashi replies modestly. 

He steers the figure into a quarter-turn, the acorn tilted towards Robert as though looking up at him. One little twig arm folds at the front, the other tucked behind. With delicate precision, the acorn nods down and the puppet bends into a respectful bow. Robert inclines his head in acknowledgment. 

“Your control is getting better,” he observes. 

“Better,” Tadashi agrees. “But not enough. The spell won’t hold— it can’t stand without my help.”

He curls his hands into fists. With the light cut off, the figure shivers, sways, and collapses to the ground, a lifeless pile of twigs once more. Tadashi releases a long sigh, worn out by the effort. Robert places an encouraging hand on his back. 

“Give it time,” he says. “You’re stronger every day.” 

Tadashi ducks his head, grateful that the fading firelight hides the flush of pleasure on his face. Even now, after all this time spent living and traveling together, he still gets a thrill when Robert tells him he’s done well. It takes him back to their earliest days at the cottage, when they were still strangers to each other. Tadashi knew Robert only through stories of his imposing reputation; Robert knew Tadashi only as an earnest young mage who turned up on his doorstep begging to be taken on as an apprentice. There was a cautious distance between them at first— Tadashi might have almost thought that Robert didn’t want him there at all, except that every once in a while he would look over Tadashi’s spellwork or appraise one of his potions and say, “well done,” and it would be reason enough to stay. 

“It won’t always be twigs,” Tadashi says, turning the figurine over in his hands. “One day it’ll be tree trunks.” 

Robert’s tone is solemn and certain. “I know.” 

It’s what he’s told Tadashi since the very beginning: if he hadn’t seen such great potential in him, he never would have taken him in. 

Night has nearly fallen in its entirety. They’ve just set to laying out their bedrolls when Robert suddenly swivels his head and stares off into the dark, his body rigid and alert. A moment later and Tadashi hears it too: the rumble of approaching hooves. Their eyes meet over the dim glow of the dying embers. Robert jerks his head to beckon Tadashi to his side. 

“Stay close,” he instructs.

Tadashi has every intention of doing so. He finds a place behind Robert’s left shoulder and joins him in peering into the trees, braced for the first glimpse of their unwanted company. Like wraiths taking shape from smoke, three horsemen gradually emerge from the darkness, coming near enough that the light reveals their black armor. Tadashi bites back a groan of dismay. _Kingsguard._ A glance at Robert confirms that he’s already clenched his jaw in displeasure, his eyes turning cold and hard at the sight of the royal crest. _Gods,_ Tadashi entreats, _please let this meeting be a brief one._

By the time the lead rider comes to a halt, he’s already too close for comfort. Tadashi can hear their own horses whickering nervously a short distance away. The embers snap. Robert’s breathing is measured and steady. The rider calls out to them in greeting.

“Good evening, travelers.”

“And to you,” Robert says, and offers nothing more. 

The rider rests his hands on the pommel of his saddle. “And, ah—what business do you have in the King’s Wood?”

Robert is carved from stone. “Our business is our own.” 

When the rider leans forward, his horse takes another step closer, moving beyond the line of discomfort and into an open threat. 

“Perhaps you don’t recognize our livery, friend.” He raps his knuckles against his jet-black breastplate. “That’s Kingsguard, it is. We speak on behalf of the King. And the _King_ would like to know your business here.” 

“If the King would like to know,” Robert snarls. “The bastard can ask me himself.” 

Tadashi can feel the energy building around him like a lightning charge gathering strength before the strike. As carefully as he can, he reaches out and places a hand on Robert’s shoulder. 

“Steady,” he whispers, half warning, half plea.

Robert turns his head at the sound of Tadashi’s voice. He hears him— but then the rider spurs his horse over the embers and into their space, forcing them to scramble apart to avoid being knocked down. With the rider between them, Robert is beyond Tadashi’s reach, his attention now focused entirely on his enemy. The other two guards have moved out to flank the travelers, pinning them in and effectively sealing their own fates. They don’t know how Robert reacts to being cornered. 

“Show some respect!” the rider commands, and he draws his sword to assert it. “You speak of Alistair the Just! Alistair the Honorable!”

Robert lowers his gaze to the ground, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss. “Alistair the Murderer.”

The rider raises his sword. “You insolent—!”

But he never gets a chance to finish the thought. When Robert lifts his head again, his eyes have turned black as pitch. And when he lifts his hand, the rider is instantly paralyzed, his sword frozen aloft, his eyes wide with dawning terror. 

“So,” Robert growls. “You speak on behalf of the King. Then I will say to you what I would say to him.” 

The horses snort and stamp in alarm as the other two Kingsguard hasten to draw their weapons. Swift as a hawk, Robert raises his other hand and takes hold of them with the same dark force, their limbs petrified as they begin to scream behind their locked jaws. 

“Robert, stop!” Tadashi yells. 

But there’s light emerging from Robert’s fingertips, livid streaks of red that coil around his hands, thrashing and writhing until they dart away from him like serpents, rushing through the air to ensnare his prey. The light binds the soldiers like blazing wire and lifts them from their saddles, freeing the horses to scatter in a panic, disappearing into the surrounding woods. Their riders remain suspended in the air, shrieking through their teeth. 

“Robert!” Tadashi’s running for him, reaching out for him. “Don’t!”

He already knows it’s too late. Robert’s face is contorted with rage, cast in terrifying shadows by the red, red light of his magic. It’s an awful red, a blood-red, a hate-red. Tadashi is sick at the sight of it. And before he has a chance to take hold of Robert’s hands and draw them down into his own, those hands tighten into cruel fists. 

“This is my message,” Robert’s voice trembles with the weight of his anger. “For Alistair the Careless.”

Baring his teeth, he yanks back his fists and draws that blazing wire back into his hands with all the speed and force of a lighting strike. As it leaps back towards its source, the light lets nothing stand in its way— not armor, not flesh, nor bone. With a cry of dismay, Tadashi throws up his arm to cover his eyes, his body twisted away from the sight. He can hear the limbs thumping down to the forest floor around him. 

He doesn’t open his eyes until it’s quiet again. 

When Tadashi lowers his arm, he doesn’t look at the carnage. He looks at Robert, who stares back at him, breathing hard. His eyes have cleared. The light has faded from his fingertips. Dazed and spent, he looks down at his hands as though stunned by what they’ve done. When he meets Tadashi’s gaze again, his expression crumples with regret. 

“Forgive me,” he whispers. 

His next inhale fractures into a deep groan of pain as he staggers, one hand clutched at his chest, his knees almost buckling from the strain. Tadashi is at his side in an instant, offering his shoulder for Robert to lean on. Robert slumps against him with a grateful sigh, his arm draped over Tadashi’s shoulders, his head hanging low in exhaustion. 

“I’m a fool,” he mutters. 

“You’re a damned fool,” says Tadashi, his heart close to breaking. “And I forgive you.” 

He gets Robert to his horse so he can hold himself upright, his grip braced on the saddle. Then Tadashi goes back to stamp out what’s left of the fire. He does his best not to look at what’s scattered around him, glistening among the underbrush. He gathers up their bedrolls and packs the last of the cooking gear. It’s fully dark now. Robert leans his head against his horse’s shoulder, his eyes closed. He needs rest. 

“Come on,” Tadashi says. “We can’t stay here.” 

Somehow Robert manages to get back up in his saddle. It takes the last of his strength, and he slumps forward with one hand clenched on the pommel, the other pressed over his heart. Tadashi mounts his horse and leans over to take Robert’s reins. Best not to go back to the road; no doubt the Kingsguard saw the fire from there and came to investigate. They may have comrades waiting for them only a short distance up the path. The safest choice would be to move further into the forest. Tadashi follows the sound of running water back to the stream, which is easy enough to cross. Once they reach the other side he chooses an arbitrary direction and leads them upstream. 

They are obliged to move slowly so the horses don’t lose their footing in the dark. The smell of rain hangs like a tangible threat in the air. The fates are kind, however, and within an hour Tadashi has spotted a bluff of rocky terrain within reach. Upon their approach, his hopes are rewarded with an overhang large enough to shelter them, horses and all. The earth beneath it has a gentle incline, so they’ll stay high and dry when the downpour begins. Safely under cover, Tadashi helps Robert dismount and sets down a stake to tie the horses. Then he scrambles back out into the woods to gather as much firewood as he can before the weather renders it useless. 

By the time the rain breaks overhead, Tadashi has a fire going and a kettle brewing a fresh provision of Robert’s tea. Robert sits and stares into the flames, one hand absently massaging the pain in his chest while Tadashi prepares a poultice of his own design, combining mud and herbs and a few well-placed incantations to bolster the soothing effects. When the mixture reaches the desired consistency, he gives Robert a nod. 

“All right,” he says. “Let me see it.” 

Robert exhales. Stiff and sore, he gingerly reaches behind him and pulls his tunic off over his head, his eyes downcast, his sins laid bare. Tadashi tries not to make a sound of sorrow when he sees the extent of the damage. The black stain that was once the size of a palmprint over Robert’s heart has now spread across his chest and shoulder, down his left arm and over onto his back, seeping like spilled wine. Every day it claims a little more of him. No matter how much he tries, Tadashi is powerless to stem the tide. 

“I know,” Robert says, his voice thick with shame. “It’s… monstrous.” 

“You’re not a monster,” Tadashi says gently. “Just a fool.” 

Robert offers a weak smile as Tadashi kneels beside him, the poultice placed within easy reach. It took a long time and a lot of work to develop this particular balm. For months Tadashi experimented with every combination of herbs and earth that he could imagine. Robert insisted that nothing could be done for it, but Tadashi was determined to find something that could ease the ache of his affliction. After trying everything he could think of and seeing no results, he’ll never forget the first time he applied this salve— the moment when Robert closed his eyes and sighed like he’d been holding his breath for years. 

He does the same now, as soon as Tadashi’s fingertips press against his corrupted skin. Although the darkness is icy cold to the touch, Robert says that it scorches like a branding iron. Tadashi applies the poultice like ointment over a burn, carefully spreading a thick, even coat over every inch of the contamination. He can feel the tension draining out of Robert’s neck and shoulders as he works, uncoiling from his perpetual flinch. The ache is everlasting; worse still when he succumbs to its malignant influence. The more he feeds it, the more it grows— and the more it grows, the more he can’t help but feed it.

_”It will consume me,” Robert said, standing before the hearth in the cottage they once called home. “Unless its purpose is fulfilled.”_

_Tadashi sat in silence. The mug in his hands had long since turned cold, untouched as he listened to Robert’s tale. He knew without question that it was the last night they would spend under the safety of that roof. He could not condone a course of vengeance— but he would not let Robert go alone. Placing his mug on the table, he rose decisively to his feet._

_“I’m coming with you.”_

He understands better than most what it means to reach for magic in the wake of tragedy. After the death of his parents, Tadashi couldn’t stop dreaming of ways that he might have kept them safe. As time passed, this vague longing began to coalesce, until all at once it was a definitive idea. In his mind he envisioned a new kind of guardian; one that would never tire, never hunger, never fail. He just had to figure out how to make one. Then, if he could figure out how to make one, he could make many. He could help so many people. 

This was Tadashi’s calling to the magic arts: the hope that he might one day create something that could protect the people he loved.

Robert’s grief led him down a different road. 

The poultice has nearly run out. Tadashi will have enough this time, but he knows with a sinking certainty that he’ll have to increase the portions for the next batch. The black stain has begun to creep up the side of Robert’s neck. Soon it will be visible above the collar of his tunic. Scooping up the last of the salve, Tadashi leans in and spreads it carefully over this new measure of darkness, mindful that it will be especially raw. Robert has to clench his teeth against the sting. 

And that’s the last of it. It’s not much, but at least it brings Robert some small measure of comfort. Tadashi only wishes there was more he could do to help. He lets his hand linger on the back of Robert’s neck, wanting nothing more than to pull him close and hold him fast. It won’t be long before the tendrils of darkness have reached his ears, his mouth, his eyes. The thought of it sits like a stone in the pit of Tadashi’s stomach. 

“You shouldn’t have done it,” he says, quiet. 

Robert grimaces and averts his gaze. “I know.”

“It was a waste,” Tadashi persists. “A waste of life, a waste of time— _your_ time. The more power you take from this thing, the more it takes from you.” 

“I know that, too.” Robert still won’t look at him. “Better than you ever will.”

Tadashi sits back on his heels, frustrated and hurt. “Then why, Robert? Why did you do it?”

“They spoke for the King.”

“But they were not the King.” When Tadashi closes his eyes, he can still see them suspended in the air, wailing in fear. “They were someone’s sons. They could have been husbands. Fathers.” He lowers his voice to keep it from breaking. “Brothers.” 

“They threatened us,” Robert dismisses. “It was self-defense.”

“It was cruel,” Tadashi says. The truth of it saddens him beyond measure. “That isn’t you.”

Robert gives a bitter scoff. “Isn’t it?”

Tadashi presses, adamant. “You’re a better man than that.” 

But Robert wheels on him with a terrible look in his eyes, his voice raised to something just shy of a roar. 

“Don’t be so naive!” 

It’s the long-delayed crack of thunder after that awful lightning strike in the forest, and Tadashi has to resist the instinct to flinch at the sound. Instead he stubbornly sets his jaw and holds Robert’s gaze, refusing to look away. He’s not about to be scared off that easily. Infuriated by his tenacity, Robert takes the heat from his voice and turns it into something bleak and cold, knowing that nothing could be more painful than the truth. 

“Or have you forgotten?” He presses his hand against his chest, his palm smeared into the poultice, his fingers curling against the stain below. “This curse was not cast upon me. I was not struck. I was not deceived. I did this to myself.” When he takes his hand away, the pitch-black proof of his choice is exposed like an open wound. “I chose the path of destruction. Never forget that, Tadashi. Never forget what I am capable of.” 

As if Tadashi could ever forget. Sometimes it almost takes his breath away, to think of the depths of despair that drove Robert to this bitter decision. He can’t imagine how lost, how hopeless he might have felt after the loss of parents, if he hadn’t had his brother and aunt to console him. After the loss of his daughter, Robert had no one. Alone in the endless black valley of his grief, his sorrow festered into rage, his pain calcifying into something jagged and dark. There was no impulse to create, for he had no one left to protect. His only impulse was to avenge what he had lost. And for that, he needed power.

No matter the cost. 

_“This darkness is bound to me,” Robert explained, at a time when the stain was still small enough for him to cover with one hand. “And I to it. The stronger I allow it to become, the stronger it will make me in return. Every day my power will increase— until the day the darkness overpowers me at last.”_

_“There must be a way,” Tadashi murmured. “To break this curse.”_

_“I planted this seed in the darkest pit of my heart.” Robert bowed his head. “Until that heart knows peace, the seed will continue to grow.” Here his hands clenched into fists, his voice turning sharp as a sword’s edge. “And I will never know peace until my vengeance is satisfied.”_

_“But why?” Tadashi was almost dizzy with shock, still struggling to process what he’d just heard. “Why would you do something like this?”_

_And Robert turned to look at him, his body silhouetted by the flickering light of the hearth, his eyes like two bright sparks of pain._

_“For Abigail.”_

He has that same look in his eyes now, the ember of agony that fuels all these furious licks of flame. Tadashi knows that Robert isn’t angry at him. He’s just angry. Angry at the Kingsguard, angry at the King, angry at the world— but most of all, Tadashi believes that Robert is angry with himself. Behind all the rage and the hate and the despair, there lurks something deeper still: regret. And there’s no salve to soothe that ache. 

When Tadashi continues to hold Robert’s wrathful glare with his own unflinching gaze, it’s finally Robert who turns his head away with a snarl, his focus now directed into the heart of the campfire. Tadashi sighs. He won’t say anything just yet. Better to let the rumble of the rain fill the silence for a while. 

The thin film of mud left on his hands has begun to dry into an unpleasant tightness, his palms stretched like the skin of a drum. Setting aside the empty bowl, Tadashi gets up and walks to the edge of the overhang, where he reaches out into the downpour to wash the residue away. Even the cool night rain feels strangely lukewarm after the unnatural chill of the curse under his fingers. Ever mindful, he scans the surrounding forest, but doesn’t see any lights or signs of life. They’re alone out here, together. 

Tadashi waits until the water runs clean from his fingertips. Then he turns to look back. 

Robert is still staring at the fire. His shoulders have settled into a defeated slump, his brow furrowed in disappointment. The thunderclap is over; now comes the rueful silence. He looks so tired. Sometimes Tadashi wonders if _devotion_ is the right word to describe how he feels about this man. All he knows is that he can’t imagine ever leaving his side. 

“Hey,” he calls out, soft. “Come away from the fire. You’ll dry the mud too fast.” 

For a moment Robert doesn’t acknowledge him. Then, with a resigned sigh, he climbs to his feet and comes closer to the rain. He keeps a wary distance from Tadashi, his eyes downcast with remorse. Tadashi doesn’t try to crowd him. He just looks out into the dark woods and listens to the water falling on the leaves. 

“It was raining like this,” he says. “When I first got to the cottage. Remember?”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Robert nod. 

“I remember.”

_Teeth chattering and boots squelching with every step, Tadashi thumped his fist against the door and hoped for the best. It opened much faster than he anticipated, and then all of a sudden they were face to face. Robert looked surprised, suspicious, and decidedly more handsome than expected. After one fierce glance at the intruder, he immediately peered over Tadashi’s shoulder, checking to see if he was alone. Tadashi gave a meek wave to regain his attention._

_“Uh,” he said. “Hi. Are you Robert? Or, um… some people call you Shieldbreaker.”_

_The name triggered an almost imperceptible flinch. “Who are you?”_

_“I’m Tadashi.” He shivered and nodded towards the warm interior of the cottage. “Can I come in?”_

_Now Robert frowned, recoiling slightly from the suggestion. “That’s... not a good idea.” His frown deepened. “I’m sorry.”_

_The door began to close. Desperate, Tadashi threw out his hand to hold it open._

_“Wait!”_

_And Robert hesitated. Somehow Tadashi knew, even then, that he was good._

_“Please,” he said. “I need your help.”_

At a certain point he’d realized there was only so much he could learn from books and secondhand recollections. If he truly wanted to master the magical arts, he would need a proper teacher—and for that he knew only one place to look. 

For years now travelers had been telling stories about stumbling upon a strange, secluded cottage in the deepest part of the nearby forest. The man who lived there was said to be courteous but distant, refusing any requests for food or shelter, instead offering to guide any trespassers back towards the road and send them on their way. Some said that he was a disgraced battle mage, condemned to exile by order of the throne. Others said that he had once been the right hand of the King, an advisor and soothsayer who abruptly renounced his position and banished himself for reasons unknown. No matter the story, one detail remained the same: the man who lived in that cottage was a magical practitioner. And that meant he was Tadashi’s best and only hope. 

“I can’t imagine how I must have looked.” Tadashi shakes his head at the memory. “Soaked to the bone and pounding on a stranger’s door in the middle of the night.” His smile is half amused, half embarrassed. “Sometimes I think you only let me in because you pitied me.” 

“I let you in,” Robert says quietly. “Because I admired you.” 

The breath catches in Tadashi’s throat, his eyes prickling with sudden tears. He knows now that when Robert opened that door, he had already cast the curse that would seal his fate. The darkness had already taken root, the sands of his hourglass already slipping away— and yet instead of setting out to appease this affliction, he chose to spend the next year of his life tethered to that cottage, his precious time consumed by the task of teaching Tadashi all that he knew about the magical arts. Most days he’ll dismiss it as a selfish decision, claiming that he only wanted his knowledge to be preserved and carried on. But in moments like this, on quiet rainy nights, Tadashi can hear the truth in his voice: Robert stayed because he wanted to help. 

That’s why Tadashi stays, too. 

A distant rumble of thunder makes them both turn their heads. With Robert looking away, Tadashi uses the opportunity to surreptitiously scrub the sleeve of his tunic under his eyes to dash away the tears that linger there. He swallows hard to shake the lump in his throat, so when he speaks again his voice is calm and clear.

“It rained a lot, those first few weeks. I got there just in time for the spring showers.”

He can still hear the ceaseless pattering on the cottage roof, the sound an omnipresent accompaniment to the beginning of his studies. It was just as well that the weather kept them indoors; Robert had a vast library of texts that Tadashi had only dreamed of being able to read, and even more that he never even knew existed. He had a lot of catching up to do. Whenever he finished one volume, Robert would place the next before him, the readings organized in such a way that Tadashi’s knowledge of each subject advanced at a practical, balanced rate. Robert was a natural teacher. Even then Tadashi suspected that he had trained someone else before. 

“Then one day— I think I’d been there for almost a month— we woke up and the weather was clear.” Tadashi remembers being amazed at how quiet it was without the rain; quiet enough to hear Robert’s breathing, steady and deep. “You said you were going out to forage, and that you’d be gone all day.” He chuckles. “I don’t think you expected me to ask to come with you.” 

Robert chuckles, too. “That’s because I didn’t know you yet.” He gives Tadashi a meek, sidelong smile. “Now I’d be surprised if you didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t know you, either,” Tadashi smiles in return. “Back then I was afraid you would say no.” 

Robert cocks his head, one eyebrow raised. “And would that have stopped you?”

Tadashi grins, his gaze darting back out to the woods around them. “Nope.” 

There’s a weary relief in Robert’s body language now, his shoulders relaxed, his fists unclenched. When he shifts his weight, he settles ever so slightly in Tadashi’s direction, drifting towards closing the distance between them. Tadashi mirrors the gesture, bringing them that much closer together. 

“We walked for hours,” he says, taking them back to that first clear day in spring. “And I don’t think you said a dozen words to me in all that time. When you did, it was only to say the name of whatever herb you had just picked for your satchel. Once you pointed to a mushroom and just said: _poisonous._ ”

Robert gives a self-deprecating groan, mortified by his own curmudgeonly behavior. 

“I wasn’t used to having company.” 

“I know,” Tadashi says. “And I tried not to take it personally. Besides, the truth is… back then… I was still a little bit afraid of you.” 

Immediately he sees Robert’s brow furrow, his gaze darting towards Tadashi in surprise and dismay. A part of Tadashi wants to rush to console him, but another part knows that he has to take his time with this. He must speak the truth slowly and gently if he wants it to be heard. 

“I didn’t know anything about you,” he says. “Only the stories, and none of them were good. Whatever happened— well, I hadn’t even begun to hope you’d tell me. At the time I didn’t even know if you would let me stay.” Tadashi hugs himself as the chill of the night starts to creep up on him. “Every day I expected you to turn around and tell me that you’d changed your mind. But you never did, and I could never figure out why.”

Those early weeks were a test all of their own. Robert was never unkind to him— but he was distant on his best days, and on his worst he was something close to cold. If Tadashi didn’t know any better, he’d have said that Robert was intentionally trying to keep him at arm’s length, determined to maintain the strict boundaries of master and apprentice. This, too, was a clue to his past: not only had he trained another student before, but it had been someone very close to him. He seemed to define himself now by their absence, and that made Tadashi sad in a way that he couldn’t quite describe. 

“So there we were,” he continues, his gaze drifting over the dark forest. “You in the lead, me following behind, neither of us saying a word. And it was so quiet, so still, that we both heard it at the same time. This… distant, desperate cry.” 

He hears Robert suck in his breath as he recognizes the story Tadashi is telling. Tadashi hopes he can remember it just as clearly— the strange thrill as the pair of them bolted in unspoken agreement towards the sound, ready to render any aid they could. 

“It was a fawn.” Tadashi can still see it, can still smell the damp earth and wet leaves around them. “She was trapped in a mudpit. Must have been all that rain.” 

_Tadashi had never heard a fawn cry before. It sounded a bit like a baby goat— a high-pitched, piteous bleating as the creature struggled weakly against the mire that held it captive. Tadashi’s guts clenched at the sound._

_“We have to do something.”_

_“Yes,” Robert said, already taking off his satchel. “We do.”_

_And Tadashi was relieved, so relieved, that he wouldn’t have to do it alone._

“You told me to gather up some branches,” Tadashi recalls. “I had no idea why. I guess I thought you were going to build some sort of bridge or something. But when I brought them back, you had drawn this… rune, in the earth.” 

_“Here,” Robert said, gesturing to the borders of the symbol. “Place the branches inside.”_

_He stepped in and helped Tadashi arrange the branches in a tangled heap, every leaf and twig contained within the image that Robert had carved in the ground. The design was beautiful; graceful curves interlocking in a pattern as deliberate and complex as a spoken incantation. Tadashi had read about such spell runes before, but he’d never seen one drawn in person. He was amazed by the power that he could feel radiating from the presence of it, as though it was a living, breathing thing._

_“Incredible,” he whispered._

_Out of respect for his teacher, he took a step back to give him room to work. His heart almost skipped a beat when Robert gestured him forward again._

_“Here,” he said to Tadashi. “I could use a hand with this.”_

After weeks of reading books and taking notes, it was the first time that their lessons had ever turned towards practical application. Tadashi had the sense of a door opening before him, an opportunity to move forward and learn what lay beyond the threshold. It was, he knew immediately, a test.

“I’d never performed a transmutation spell before,” Tadashi admits. “And I’m pretty sure you were aware of that. But even so… you seemed so certain that I _could._ ” 

“I knew you could,” Robert murmurs. “I just had to make sure you did, too.”

_They knelt side by side in the carpet of wet leaves, their heads bowed towards the nest of branches they’d made. Tadashi followed Robert’s lead as they placed their hands into the furrows of the rune, their fingers curled in the cool, damp earth._

_“The symbol is the spell,” Robert said. “Now we must cast it.” He looked at Tadashi beside him. “It’s not just a question of willpower. It’s a question of intent. The stronger the intent, the stronger the magic.” He looked towards the rune. “Why do you want to cast this spell?”_

_As if on command, the stranded fawn gave another pitiful cry. Tadashi didn’t even know what the spell would do. All he had was his intent, and that was strong enough to move mountains._

_“I want to help,” he said._

_“Good,” Robert nodded his approval. “Focus on that, and breathe with me.”_

_They inhaled and exhaled together, the rhythm a conscious effort at first but soon a natural harmony, their bodies settling into balance. Robert never said anything about closing his eyes but Tadashi did so anyway, allowing himself to concentrate on the dirt under his hands, the cries of the fawn in the distance, the warmth of Robert beside him._

_“Now,” Robert’s voice said in the darkness. “Focus. Intent.”_

_And just like that, together they reshaped one tiny little piece of the world._

“It was a rope,” Tadashi says. “We made the branches into a rope.” He remembers opening his eyes and staring at the coils, astonished by their transformation. “I’d never done anything like that in my life, and yet there it was, the tangible proof that I could. And the best part was—” 

His voice catches, his throat going tight with emotion. The sound makes Robert turn towards him in concern, so Tadashi musters up a weak smile to let him know that the emotion is a happy one. As a matter of fact, it might be one of the happiest memories he has.

“You could have done it alone,” he says. “But you let me help.” 

Robert’s expression softens. Tadashi wants to say: _that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do._ He wants to say: _please, please let me help you._ He wants to say: _I’m not afraid of you anymore._ But he can never seem to muster up the nerve to blurt it out— and besides, that’s not why he’s telling this story right now. 

_“So,” Tadashi said, as Robert found one end of the rope and doubled it back to form a lasso. “What’s the plan? Are you gonna try and get that around its leg or something?”_

_“I don’t want to pull her out like that,” Robert demurred, his fingers deftly weaving a bowstring knot. “She might get hurt.”_

_“Then what?”_

_By way of answer, Robert slipped the lasso over his own head and one arm, tightening it in a diagonal across his chest. Then he offered the opposite end of the rope to Tadashi._

_“Simple,” he said. “I’m going in after her.”_

_On pure reflex Tadashi accepted the rope, then did a double-take as Robert stood up and began walking towards the edge of the mudpit. Tadashi had to scramble to follow him before the slack in the line between them ran out._

_“Wait, are you really going in there?” he spluttered. “What if you get stuck?”_

_Robert laughed. “That’s why we made the rope.” He gestured at the end in Tadashi’s grip. “Don’t let go.”_

_Tadashi tightened his fists like his life depended on it. “I won’t.”_

_For a moment Robert stood at the edge, gauging the conditions. Then he slipped down into the pit. Right away he sank in up to his chest, which nearly made Tadashi shout for him to get out. But then Robert began to push forward, and it became clear that the better part of the mud was actually thin and watery, more of a mess than a mire. From the way Robert moved it looked like the worst of it was only about knee deep, so that with enough strength and patience, he could make progress. Step by painstaking step, he crept towards the stranded fawn. It must have been her hind legs that were caught in the muck, leaving her head and forelegs visible above the surface. She bleated fearfully at Robert’s approach._

_“Hush now, little one,” Robert said, his voice low and reassuring. “Everything will be all right.”_

_The fawn gave one last panicked flail as Robert arrived at her side, kicking up a splash that splattered his face with mud. Undeterred, he moved behind her, reaching down into the mud to wrap his arms around her belly. Then he carefully leaned back to pull her free. Tadashi could hear the audible squelch as her hooves popped loose from the suction below. Sensing her liberty, the fawn almost began to thrash again, but Robert pulled her close to his chest, pinning her legs with his arms. She gave one anxious squirm and then went still, surrendering to his control. Slow and steady, Robert turned around and began to make his way back towards the shore._

_“There we go,” he murmured to the trembling fawn. “I’ve got you, sweet girl. You’re all right.”_

The thunder rumbles again, farther away this time. The storm has long since passed. There’s nothing left now but the rain, cool and clean and forgiving, the patter on the leaves as familiar as a lullaby. Robert has taken root, his eyes distant and sad, lost in the memory. Tadashi begins to move closer.

“I remember thinking,” he says. “That it wasn’t an especially dangerous thing to do. It wasn’t big or brave or heroic. It was... messy, and inconvenient, and — if I’m being honest — completely unimportant in the grand scheme of things.” 

They’re near enough now that Robert is obliged to look at him, his gaze caught and held by Tadashi’s own. Tadashi loves him so much in that moment that he can barely get the next words out of his mouth.

“But you didn’t do it because it was important,” he says. “You did it because it was kind.” 

_Tadashi kept the rope wrapped around both hands, just in case, even as he watched Robert forge his way back through the mire at a calm but constant pace. He maintained a stream of whispered encouragement to the fawn as he went, which seemed to make her aware of his intentions, for her eyes were no longer rolling in panic, her body no longer stiff with fright. She did not struggle as he brought them back to the point where he’d gone in._

_“All right,” he said when they reached the edge. “Tadashi, I’ll need your help with this.”_

_Shifting the weight of the fawn forward, Robert began to lift her up out of the pit. Dropping to his knees on the muddy shore, Tadashi reached down and slid his arms around the animal, mindful not to lean too far and topple himself in as well. He was face to face with Robert, with only the fawn between them._

_“Ready?” Robert asked._

_“Yeah,” Tadashi nodded. “I got her.”_

_As he pulled up and out, he could feel Robert pushing up with him, so that with their combined effort Tadashi was able to heave the fawn clear out of the pit and onto solid ground, where she took two shaky steps and then immediately folded herself into an exhausted, protective huddle. Aside from her fatigue and a thorough coating of muck, she seemed none the worse for wear. Tadashi turned back to Robert with a grateful smile._

_“Okay,” he said. “Your turn.”_

_It was a bit more of a challenge than extricating the fawn, but they managed well enough. First Tadashi stood on the bank and reached down as Robert reached up, gripping each other’s forearms in a mutual hold. Then Tadashi leaned back, keeping Robert’s weight off his feet so that he could extract first one and then the other from the deepest part of the morass. As the second foot popped loose, Tadashi’s lean became a stagger, hauling backwards and dragging Robert up over the edge of the pit and onto his belly in the mud._

_Tadashi didn’t let go until he was sure Robert was safe. At that point Robert promptly rolled over onto his back and sprawled there, covered from head to toe in mud and breathing hard, exhausted but content. Tadashi sat down beside him, quietly marveling at the sight of Robert’s supine, satisfied form. He’d never seen him act like this. He’d never seen Robert be happy._

_For a long while they rested together, Tadashi and Robert and the fawn, all catching their breath after such an endeavor. It was Tadashi who realized that they weren’t alone._

_“Robert,” he whispered. “Look.”_

_Propping himself up on his elbows, Robert followed the line of Tadashi’s pointing finger. There, about ten yards away, a doe stood watching them from between the trees. Robert’s whole face immediately brightened in recognition, as though he’d just caught sight of a beloved friend after a long absence._

_“Oh, hey there, Mama,” he said, warm and affectionate. “I was hoping to see you here. Don’t worry, we were just leaving.”_

_Tadashi instinctively started to jump up, but Robert caught his wrist and murmured, “Slow, slow.” So they rose gradually, quietly, until they found their feet and could creep backwards, step by careful step, making only a minor detour to claim the satchels that they’d set aside while they worked. Robert held one open hand towards the doe as they went, half assurance, half blessing._

_“It’s all right,” he murmured. “It wasn’t your fault. A strong-willed child will always wander away, and sometimes there’s nothing you can do to stop her.” He coughed to hide the tremor in his voice. “But she’s safe now. I promise. You don’t have to lose her just yet.” He gestured at the fawn, whose raised head and flickering ears were a beacon of expectation. “Go on, then. She’s waiting for you.”_

_Once they had retreated to a discreet distance, Robert and Tadashi stopped to watch the reunion. It took several cautious minutes, but finally the doe began to make her way through the copse to approach her offspring. She paused every few steps for another careful glance at her surroundings. Tadashi was almost dizzy with anticipation. He looked over and saw Robert leaning against the nearest tree, still watching the fawn, his smile bittersweet. They were so close._

_And as the doe at last came near enough to reach down and nuzzle the fawn’s upturned face, Robert sighed and bowed his head. Tadashi had never seen that particular look on his face before, but he knew at once what it was. Instantly he locked the image away in his heart._

Sometimes the memory of that look is the only thing that gives Tadashi hope. He cherishes it for the same reason that he cherishes the memory of the rope they made from the branches: it’s tangible proof that such a thing can be achieved.

“When it was done,” Tadashi says. “I looked over at you, and the expression on your face was… well, I know what I saw.” His smile is so gentle, so assured. “You were at peace.” 

Robert makes a choked sound of doubt, his eyes averted and his arms crossed defensively over his chest. The gesture is not to protect his heart— it’s an attempt to protect Tadashi from the darkness within it. 

He still hasn’t seemed to realize that it’s already too late for that. 

“It was only for a moment,” Tadashi says. “But that’s when I knew.” He’s standing right beside Robert now, both of them staring off into the rain. “I knew that you studied magic for the same reason I did: you wanted to do good.”

_And that’s when I knew,_ he adds, silent and sure. _That I was in love with you._

When he turns to look up at him, he sees that Robert’s jaw is clenched in anguish. Tadashi’s voice is soft but insistent. 

“Not because it was important,” he affirms. “But because it was kind. Never forget that, Robert. Never forget what you are capable of.” 

That takes the last of the fight out of him. In the next instant Robert crumples in grief, one hand covering his face to hide his shame, the other clutched at his chest to hide his pain. Tadashi isn’t about to let him hide either one. He steps in front of Robert and takes him by the shoulders, offering himself as a safe harbor. 

“Hey,” he says. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m with you.” 

With a shudder of effort, Robert uncovers his face and reaches out to take hold of Tadashi’s shoulder. His eyes are so lost, so desolate as they search Tadashi’s face for a sign, expecting to see dread or fear but finding instead only tenacious devotion. The franticness starts to slow, Robert’s gaze growing steady. He unclenches the hand over his heart and places it on Tadashi’s other shoulder, the circuit completed. They stand together in silence, their gazes locked, the rain humming outside. 

Robert’s sorrow is so much like the tide. It rises until it nearly drowns him, but then, at last, it ebbs away. He’s quiet now. Tadashi exhales. 

“Hold on,” he says. “Let me fix that.”

He pulls away just enough to lean towards the edge of the overhang and stick his hand out into the rain. After a few seconds he brings it back in again, then reaches out to brush the fresh rainwater over Robert’s poultice, wetting it down so he can correct the bare patch that Robert made in his anger. Robert keeps a loose hold on Tadashi’s shoulders while he works, his chin tucked down so he can watch as Tadashi smears the surrounding poultice inwards to fill the gap. He has to spread it a bit thinner than he would like, but he’d rather have all the skin covered completely to seal in the cooling effect of the salve. 

When he’s finished, he lets his hand linger over Robert’s heart, almost but not quite pressing down. He sucks in a breath when Robert suddenly covers that hand with his own. 

“Tadashi,” he says, his voice strained. “It’s getting stronger.” 

Tadashi swallows hard against the rush of fear. “I know.” 

“I can feel it.” Robert presses down on Tadashi’s hand, sealing the palmprint over his heart. “I’m running out of time.” 

“But you still _have_ time,” Tadashi counters. He can feel Robert’s heartbeat under his palm. “Don’t talk like this. Don’t talk like you’re giving up.” 

There’s fear in Robert’s eyes, fear and the slow creep of despair. “And what if I am?”

“I’m not giving up on you.” 

Tadashi says it with even more force than he intended, the words bursting out of him with all the intent of an incantation and all the permanence of a vow. For a moment it startles him. But instead of retreating from the pledge, he leans into it, both figuratively and literally, driving his weight against the hand pressed over Robert’s heart. He wants Robert to know that if he could, he would reach right in between his ribs and take hold of that heart so that nothing could ever harm it again. 

“Listen,” he says. “I mean it. I’m not giving up. So you can’t give up either, okay? You’ve got to fight it, Robert. You’ve got to hold on. Please.” Tadashi can’t keep his voice from breaking. “Please— don’t let it take you.” 

He can’t even bear to look at Robert’s face anymore. There’s too much sadness there, too much pain. Tadashi looks down at their hands instead, still joined together over Robert’s heart, holding its fate in the balance. He doesn’t notice Robert’s other hand moving until it cups the side of his face, heavy and warm.

“No matter what happens,” Robert murmurs. “I will never regret the time that I spent as your teacher.” 

Tadashi looks up too quickly and the tears slip out, rolling down his face as he raises his head to be greeted by Robert’s warm, admiring smile. 

“I didn’t think I would ever have such a privilege again,” Robert says. “Thank you for that.” 

Quick and gentle, he uses the pad of his thumb to wipe one of the tears from Tadashi’s face. Tadashi leans into his touch, rapt. 

Then, with a regretful glance, Robert withdraws his hand altogether. He takes away the other hand too, freeing Tadashi’s from being pressed over his heart. Untethered, Tadashi retracts his touch, leaving a distinctive handprint behind. It pleases him to know that it will dry that way, his mark sealed against Robert’s skin until morning. 

“It’s late,” Robert says. “We should get some rest.”

Tadashi swipes away the remaining tear track with his wrist. “Okay. I’ll take first watch.”

Robert doesn’t argue. He’s too tired for that. They lay down their bedrolls and check again that the horses are tethered and secure. Tadashi turns over a smouldering log in the firepit, encouraging the embers to simmer. He can see Robert watching him in the faded light. 

“What is it?” Tadashi wonders. 

“Nothing.” Robert props an arm behind his head. “It’s just you’re not as wise as you think.” 

“Oh really?” Tadashi raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

Robert looks into the snapping embers, his smile wistful. “A wise man would have parted ways with me by now.”

Of course Tadashi has known that he’s a fool from the start. After all, it takes one to know one. 

“Nice try,” he smirks. “But you promised to teach me everything you know.” He points a stern finger. “We’re not done yet.” 

There’s a snorting noise that might actually be Robert attempting to laugh. It’s been a long time since Tadashi heard that sound.

“All right, then,” Robert says. “I’m a man of my word. Lessons resume in the morning.” 

“I’ll hold you to it,” Tadashi replies. “Now get some sleep.” 

With one last nod of acknowledgment, Robert rolls over onto his side and settles there, his head pillowed on his arm. It isn’t long before his breathing slows and deepens, the last of the tension seeping from his shoulders, his anguished spirit finally, however briefly, at rest. Tadashi watches him sleep. There’s no danger of it making him drowsy— he hasn’t been able to sleep properly for weeks. 

He knows it won’t just be lessons that resume in the morning. It will be their journey as well. 

With the darkness growing faster every day, Robert now pursues what he believes to be his only possible chance at release. If Tadashi can’t find a way to break the curse before they reach their destination, then Robert will find his peace the only way he knows how— by satisfying his vengeance.

Tomorrow they keep riding for the castle. 

Tadashi will just have to figure something out before they get there. 

 

 

 

________________end.


End file.
